


Safe

by Not Applicable (not_applicable)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Arc Reactor Angst, Body Horror, Comfort Sex, Complicated Relationships, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Rhodey, Rhodey Is a Good Bro, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:33:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1333933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_applicable/pseuds/Not%20Applicable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was one thing to build bombs, but it was another thing to set someone on fire and then watch them burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wild-abyss](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=wild-abyss).



> A Tumblr prompt fill for wild-abyss. They requested Rhodey's first time seeing the arc reactor, military hospitals, body horror, and mutual comfort. I tried to hit all of those points. 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment, and [find me on Tumblr](http://notfknapplicable.tumblr.com/) if you want me to fill your Rhodey/Tony prompt, too - or we can just swoon over these two darlings.
> 
> Set right after Tony's rescue in _Iron Man_.

Rhodey awoke with a jolt when he heard the mess hall doors come swinging open. He'd been sleeping standing up, leaning against the concrete slab of a wall. A soldier wearing a greasy apron over his fatigues was walking out with two styrofoam boxes in his hands, and Rhodey could smell them from there. It was different from whatever they were serving the soldiers in the hall – there were spices, masala and garlic and curry and cardamom. The boxes were heavy when he finally got them in his hands.

“Enjoy,” the cook said, and he saluted Rhodey casually. “We're glad you found him.”

Rhodey drove back to the modest dirt-walled house that he was staying in with the food on the passenger seat. Tony was supposed to be there by now, and he hoped that they hadn't left him alone there. Rhodey had only been able to get out his “next time you ride with me” line before Tony fell into his hug and said nothing, and Tony didn't say anything on the chopper ride back to base, just slumped against Rhodey's side and stared out of the window at the expanse of desert below them. There was metal and machinery dotted across the sand, a sight that Tony just grinned at, and though Rhodey wondered _how_ his friend had managed his escape, he thought it might not be the best time to ask. Tony seemed like he was enjoying the silence.

Tony didn't speak until they got to their destination and doctors swarmed him, made him sit in a wheelchair and braced his shoulder before even asking what was really wrong with it. Generals and other top-shelf DOD personnel showed up, too, one group ushering Rhodey away for what would end up being the longest debriefing of his life. The others just took Tony's wheelchair and pushed it away towards a tent, and while they jabbered at him and asked him a million questions, Rhodey looked up to see Tony turned in his chair, wrenching around with a painful expression and meeting his eyes through the swarm of dust and lights and voices. Tony looked terrified, looked like he was poising himself to stand even though the chair was still moving.

“Where are you going?” Tony asked, shouted, and Rhodey walked away from whoever was talking to him. It was some four-star general and Rhodey knew he'd have to make one hell of an apology later. “Where are you staying? Take me back to your house, I'm fine, I'm not -”

One of the medics spoke up in a practiced-calm voice. “Mr. Stark, we need to -”

“No, we don't.” The look Tony gave the medic made everyone else go silent. “I'm staying with him. Okay?”

Rhodey approached and put a hand on Tony's shoulder, and that was enough to get Tony to sit back in his chair again, to look at him instead of shooting daggers with his eyes at everyone around him. Rhodey wanted to say that it wasn't “his” house, just a safe house that the US military owned in Afghanistan, a building with the barest of amenities, exposed pipes and wiring in every room because the walls were made of mud bricks. But he understood what Tony meant. He knew what Tony needed.

“I'll find you when I'm done with all this,” Rhodey said. “Relax, okay – they _gotta_ check you out, make sure that everything's...” Rhodey glanced down at something he'd barely noticed before in the heat and the sun: a pale blue circle was glowing brightly in Tony's chest, and Rhodey had no idea why. “We wanna be sure you're alright.”

 

*

 

Rhodey talked with military personnel for hours, and the entire time his closed-circuit PDA buzzed with messages from medical: _Stark is very agitated, will not calm himself, looks like a panic attack, throwing things, won't remove his shirt, finally removed shirt, will not be examined, the light is very bright, we have no idea what it is, he won't say, please find out, refuses to speak to anyone besides you, will be at your quarters by 1900 hours._

It was 2030 now and Rhodey was pulling up to the the safe house. He could see the lights on and glowing through the curtains as he gathered up their food and headed to the door. He hoped Tony wouldn't be offended that he brought him Indian instead of finding burgers or mac and cheese or something stereotypically American. He hadn't had time to ask Tony anything about the past three months, about the food or how he was treated or the light in his chest or anything. He put the food on the coffee table in the tiny living room, and he noticed a pair of boots sitting beneath the table that hadn't been there before.

“Tony?” Rhodey called, but he got no answer. He walked through the kitchenette and the bedroom and then he reached the bathroom, where Tony was seated on the toilet lid and holding a white towel to his chest, covering the light that shone there. Tony looked up quickly and Rhodey expected him to grin and make a silly quip or something, but he didn't – his eyes melted closed and he just shook his head and pressed the towel harder to his chest, and he gave an audible hiss.

“It needs a new casing,” Tony said, his voice strained like he was trying to remain calm, “All I had were empty missile shells, I couldn't really sterilize anything, ya know?”

Tony dropped the towel and grabbed another, and that's when Rhodey saw it. The bright blue glow in Tony's chest was circled with angry red skin that looked like it hurt to touch, and the edges were puffy with congealed blood and pus. Tony winced when he pressed the clean towel to it - “fuck,” he breathed, and Rhodey picked up a first aid kit and sat on the edge of the old tub, beside Tony, while his friend breathed through a pain that he didn't want to imagine. Tony still hadn't showered and he still smelled like dirt and hot wind and gasoline and burnt metal. The towel on the floor was bloody and the wound in his chest looked infected.

“What is it?” Rhodey asked as he opened the kit. He could have thought of a gentler or more sly way to ask about it, but he and Tony had never been ones to mince words with each other. “The doctors said you wouldn't let them examine it.” He retrieved Bactine, sterile saline, lidocaine cream, gauze, and tape.

“An electromagnet,” Tony said as he dropped the now-dirty towel from his chest. The towel was bloody and the wound in Tony's chest seemed alive with the way it moved as he breathed. “There's bomb shrapnel in my chest and it'll kill me if it reaches my heart. The magnet keeps it in check.”

Rhodey held up the bottle of saline and Tony turned to him without any prompting, and he rested a shaky hand on Rhodey's shoulder. Rhodey's hands shook too as he rinsed Tony's wound as gently as possible, but Rhodey could tell that it was still painful. Tony's breath hitched and his face squeezed in silent agony as Rhodey moved the bottle all around, making sure to rinse it as best he could. There was an electromagnet in Tony's chest. A piece of machinery.

“The casing is too big,” Tony said through clenched teeth as Rhodey used a cotton swab to carefully apply lidocaine and bacitracin around the circle over his friend's heart. “Breathe too deep and it bumps my ribcage. I did the best I could with that I had.”

Rhodey put down the swab and ran a hand over his face. He was sweating and it felt like he couldn't breathe. “I did the best I could,” Tony said again, and Rhodey nodded, and he wanted to talk about surgery and the Air Force hospital in Balad, a quick trip in a jet, but he just gripped Tony's knee instead, squeezed him there before bringing his other hand up to the back of Tony's neck. That was all the invitation Tony needed and he let his head tip forward to rest on Rhodey's shoulder. Tony was breathing hard and Rhodey thought of how bad that must hurt him, and he wanted to tell Tony to calm down but he'd probably been told that enough already today. Rhodey tried to mumble a little comfort but he still felt inappropriate, like he was taking something away from Tony by telling him to relax, that everything was okay now and all the bad stuff was over. How many days had Tony wandered that desert? He had probably given up at some point, too, had probably assumed he'd die out there before he was rescued. Tony was allowed to remember that, to still be a little afraid and to grip Rhodey's shoulder like someone was trying to drag him away again.

“I did everything I could but it all just went to shit, as usual.” And now Rhodey really wanted to speak up, but he didn't. “The suit took forever to power up, Yinsen ended up getting shot so I just set everyone on fire. I mean _everyone_ , I killed all of those bastards.” Everything stopped with the weight of that statement. It was one thing to build bombs, but it was another thing to set someone on fire and then watch them burn. “Thrusters went out at a thousand feet, hit the ground at terminal velocity and I was like 'great, you idiot, you didn't even bring any water. Obie's gonna have to bury a skeleton.'” Yeah. “Nothing but sand, surrounded by nothing but fucking _sand_ , Rhodey – and you can't eat sand, you can't drink sand, and it gets in everything, too, got in the hole in my fucking chest...” Tony reached to the back of his neck and rested a hand on top of Rhodey's. “I thought they killed everyone when they ambushed us, you know. I thought they killed you, too.”

“Hey, I'm alive, buddy,” Rhodey said. Okay, time to cut in. “And so are you, okay?” He hated to think of how Tony's chest felt right then, his ribs clanging against a missile shell with every giant breath he was taking. Tony looked up and smiled a little bit but it was horribly sad on his dirty and tear-streaked face, and Tony nodded his head bitterly, almost as if to say _yeah, I know_. Tony looked up at Rhodey with eyes that were as leaky and red as the wound in his chest and his mouth was rippling with what might have been anger but Rhodey knew that it was fear and relief. When Tony leaned forward Rhodey immediately knew why and he didn't resist it at all, just let their lips touch once, then again, and then Tony leaned on his shoulder again and just breathed there, his arms a heavy, welcomed weight around Rhodey's neck. Rhodey's eyes felt hot when he realized how much he loved touching Tony, kissing him, things that he'd never worried about losing before. He closed his eyes and saw Tony alone in the desert and waiting to die, thinking that no one was coming for him because everyone was dead.

Rhodey cleared his throat and swallowed hard, trying to push the lump down in his throat. “We need to cover that,” he said, gesturing at Tony's chest, “but you need a bath first.”

Rhodey helped Tony clean himself and nobody complained about the food – the only thing Tony said was that he hadn't eaten that much in a whole day for the past three months – and Rhodey sent emails home to Pepper, Happy, Obadiah Stane, and his own mother to let them know that Tony was alive. Everyone responded immediately except Stane, all of them happy and relieved, and Tony pulled Rhodey's arms around him when they climbed in bed that night. It was a twin bed, not nearly enough room for two grown men, but Rhodey was comforted by the warm and firm metal that pressed into his side while Tony slept and he stayed awake with his firearm loaded on the bedside table.

 

* * *

 

It was surprisingly easy to convince Tony to go to Balad. It turned out that the electromagnet in his chest was powered by a miniaturized arc reactor _(he's fucking brilliant)_ and Tony worked on the schematics for a new casing on the flight to Iraq. They got the design to the metalworks guys as soon as they got there and Rhodey stayed with Tony throughout his preliminary exam and all the discussions with the surgeons. Tony had a private room and they hung out there until it was time to prep Tony for surgery. Pre- and post-op areas were for family only but Tony insisted that Rhodey stay, and they finally said goodbye as Tony was being wheeled out on a gurney to get scrubbed down and dressed for surgery.

Rhodey picked up the casing and delivered it to the operatory himself, and he'd wanted to speak to Tony again but he was already under anesthesia, completely knocked out and on a respirator. So he sat in the family lounge and called Pepper, told her what Tony had told him and promised to have Tony back in the US in a few weeks, depending on how his recovery went.

 

Tony was in surgery for six hours. Rhodey went to Tony's private room and crashed out on a couch for some much-needed sleep. He just hadn't been able to manage it last night. He just lay there on his back with Tony pressed into him, head on his shoulder and an arm thrown over Rhodey's chest as he slept soundly. Rhodey could feel the heat of the machinery in Tony's body through the bandages and his shirt, and he thought he could smell gun metal even though Tony had been been bathed as thoroughly as possible. Tony had gone out like a light but Rhodey could only stay awake and think of Tony's words: “I mean everyone, I killed all of those bastards.” Tony had never killed anyone before. Rhodey thought about the initial procedure for putting that magnet in Tony's body. They couldn't have been properly equipped for such a procedure in that cave, and he doubted that they'd even had all of the right medications to ease Tony's pain.

Every now and then he'd look to the gun on the bedside table. The US army owned the entire neighborhood they were in and the surrounding area was heavily fortified, so it's not like he needed his weapon, but he'd watched Tony's eyes when he loaded the magazine and switched off the safety. Tony seemed happy, calmed by it.

 

Rhodey was unarmed right then at the Air Force hospital but he didn't mind. There were guards posted at Tony's door anyway so he just let himself fall into a heavy, dreamless sleep, a kind that he hadn't enjoyed in three months, and Tony certainly hadn't slept that well either in that time. Rhodey had only been back to California once, and that was just to plead for more time to find Tony before they declared him dead. Other than that, he'd been in Afghanistan combing the desert and barely sleeping in his tiny safe house. Trying to think of something clever to say when he saw Tony so that he wouldn't cry instead.

Rhodey woke up when they wheeled Tony back in. He groggily stood and offered to help with putting Tony back on his fancy overstuffed hospital bed but the orderlies were plenty capable and managed it themselves. Tony was out cold but off of the respirator, and Rhodey could see the mound of bandages on his chest beneath his hospital gown. They'd cut away the infected flesh and made the new casing out of titanium, sawed down Tony's ribs and set the housing for the arc reactor in his body in a careful, as not-intrusive as possible way. Tony mentioned that he planned to make a better arc reactor once he got home, one that wasn't made of Jericho leftovers, but right now Tony could breathe easy. Rhodey watched the big, slow rise and fall of Tony's chest and Rhodey felt like he could breathe easier, too.

 

*

 

Tony only stayed in the hospital for a few days before they released him, and the military put them up in a hotel suite to wait out Tony's air transport back home. Rhodey thought that Tony should stay at least for a week but Tony insisted that he felt fine, he was taking his meds and healing well, and he was also just really eager to replace the piece of bomb scraps in his chest.

“It's missile parts, a bunch of shit I had to throw together in a pinch,” Tony explained as Rhodey changed the dressings on his chest. “Some of it's rusty, probably damaged, too – the new housing for it is great, but I want this other piece of shit out of me.”

It was healing well. With the infection cut away and the new casing being made of spotless shining metal, it was tough to believe that any of this had gotten started in a cave. Tony was even beginning to shake off the PTSD, if only publicly – he was able to attend meetings and debriefings now, had spoken to Happy and Pepper and Obie on the phone and had even recorded a short video to say thanks to Rhodey's unit for finding him. Tony still wasn't keen on going anywhere without an armed escort, however, and Rhodey was glad to provide one whenever needed. He'd had a couple of suits flown in so he could look the part of Tony Stark, billionaire genius and the toast of the Jet Set, but back at the hotel they were still sleeping in the same bed and with a loaded gun nearby. Tony would wake up screaming and clawing at his chest, or sometimes he'd be swinging his fists at Rhodey, at anything he could see. He never landed a punch and he always calmed down and said he was sorry, kissed his apologies along Rhodey's hands and his lips and his neck. “I see awful things in my sleep,” he'd whisper there, and one night he followed that up with, “and I know you do, too.”

It had been worse when Tony was missing but it still happened occasionally. Rhodey would wake up with his heart racing and he'd try his damnedest not flail or wake Tony up, but he wasn't successful most of the time. Tony never got upset or even really acknowledged it, but now he was pulling Rhodey on top of him and wrapping his legs around him, heels anchored along the back of his thighs. “I don't have much to offer you right now,” Tony said, and Rhodey spoke to protest but Tony was arching up into his body for the first time in a while, and Rhodey literally could not find his voice. “But I can help us sleep.”

They hadn't done that in a couple of years but Rhodey knew that they'd blurred the boundaries of this whole “exes who are best friends” thing already with all the kissing and bed-sharing, and besides, he was in no position to say no to Tony while he was having nightmares and trying to yank the rusty metal out of his body. There was something tight and coiled in Rhodey's stomach, too, a horrible feeling that had been there since he saw the exploded Hummers and murdered soldiers of Tony's convoy three months ago, and the feeling only lessened when he was close to Tony, close enough to feel him breathing and know that his body was alive and working just fine. And Tony was offering, he wanted it just as much as Rhodey did, and the promise of a good night's sleep was enough to have him fishing around for lube and slicking both of them up, and he held Tony close and sank into him as carefully as he ever had. He remembered times when Tony was enthusiastic and talkative between the sheets, tossing him around and asking for the same, but now he was just lying beneath Rhodey and holding him tensely, his hips meeting Rhodey's with every thrust, his eyes fluttering in his red face.

“Shit,” Tony grunted, speeding up already, and Rhodey could tell that neither one of them were going to last long, but clearly this wasn't about lasting long. He knew what Tony needed so he just kept up his pace and gave it to him, shifting his position a bit matching Tony's quickening pace, and he watched Tony's eyes flutter shut as he began to ease back into his pillow, his moans soft and weak now. Sure enough Tony was tensing beneath him seconds after that, his arms trembling around Rhodey's back. Rhodey wasn't far behind him and he just tried his best not to buck or jostle Tony too much, tried not to cry out too loudly into Tony's ear as ninety days worth of tension and worry left him, making his head light and his chest heavy as he felt Tony's arms and legs, his living flesh wrapped strong around him.

Rhodey stayed still for a moment before noticing the warm metal against his chest, and he slid off of Tony and immediately checked the bandages over the arc reactor, made sure they weren't bleeding through or anything. “You okay?” he asked and Tony just nodded, winded and staring at the arrow painted on the roof of their hotel room, an arrow pointing towards Mecca – a common courtesy provided by hoteliers in Muslim countries.

“What was I thinking?” Tony breathed, eyes drooping already, and he hooked an arm around Rhodey's shoulders and pulled him close. “I'm safest with you, right?” Tony shook his head, obviously lamenting a horrible decision. “I shoulda just ridden with you.”

 

* * *

 

Rhodey decided not to tell Tony why they were taking the cargo door to exit the plane until they landed, and Tony rolled his eyes. “You're crazy if you think I'm letting you wheel me off of this plane,” he said, and he took Rhodey's hand and attempted to get up out of his wheelchair. “Pepper can't see me like this. She'll try to send me to the hospital and we both know I'm fine.”

Rhodey helped Tony stand. Tony's other arm was in a sling so Rhodey brushed Tony's suit off for him, fixed his lapels. They were about to part ways for the first time since Rhodey found Tony – well, in an hour there'd be a press conference that they were both scheduled to attend, but after that Rhodey was due to go back to work and Tony...he didn't know what Tony had in store. Rhodey wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to fall back into their old habits during that last week in Balad but Tony was still holding his hand as the plane rolled to a stop on the runway, his body heat a blessing along Rhodey's arm. He turned to Rhodey then and smiled, and when the cargo bay doors began to go down he leaned in and pressed a quick, furtive kiss onto Rhodey's lips. Years ago, Rhodey would have protested because he was in uniform. Conduct unbecoming of an officer and a gentleman.

“Thank you,” Tony said, and he slipped sunglasses on over sparkling eyes. “I mean it, Rhodey, and I've got something planned for you. The greatest gift I could ever give you.”

“Better than the Phillies?”

Tony grinned and faced forward. “Quick, choose one: silver or gold?”

“Silver,” Rhodey answered. Easy.

“Got it.”

Tony didn't let go of Rhodey's hand once they were visible to the people on the runway, and neither did Rhodey. He figured it would make sense to them. Rhodey began to lead Tony down the ramp slowly, out towards the Bentley that waited to take him to Stark Industries. Everyone had told Tony that he should rest up for a few days before facing the press, but he had something he really wanted to say. Fair enough. Happy waited by the car and so did Pepper, wearing her best suit and trying to hide her puffy eyes behind her bangs. Tony waved away the gurney and Rhodey gave Pepper a respectful nod before heading towards the small faction of colonels and generals from Edwards that were there to meet him. He didn't look back towards Tony because he knew that his chest was healing up fine and that his body was healthy and strong, and most importantly, safe with Pepper and Happy. He was glad to know that he no longer had to sleep with a loaded Glock on the bedside table, but he was glad to do that if Tony needed it from him – needed anything, really. He wondered what kind of present Tony had in store for him.


End file.
